Basement Laundry Room
by decz22
Summary: Modern AU oneshot including the barricade boys. Enjolras meets a young lady while doing laundry one evening.


Enjolras first met her in the basement laundry room in the dorms at school. She was sitting on the ground beside one of the folding tables, watching a washer that had seven minutes left on it. She was swinging a lanyard with one hand and sipping from a Pepsi bottle. Enjolras walked behind her to the other table and she glanced over her shoulder, holding the bottle at her lips. He nodded at her and she turned back to her washer. He didn't say anything as he sorted his clothes and put them into three separate washers. Hers beeped when it finished and she set her Pepsi bottle on the table before pushing herself off the ground. She grabbed her small basket and tossed it down in front of the machine before opening the door. Enjolras just sat on one of the chairs that was mounted to the wall and read. She kicked the door shut with her foot once she had gotten all of her wet laundry out and walked over to the dryers. She opened the door to one on the top row and stood on her tip toes to peer inside of it. She had just started throwing her things in it when Enjolras spoke.

"You're supposed to check the vent first." The girl glared at him, holding a blue towel.

"It's empty, I've already checked it." She tossed the towel in and turned her back on Enjolras once again. Enjolras watched her as she emptied the basket and then dropped it on the floor. She walked back to the table and pulled a dryer sheet out of a box. She seemed to be ignoring him.

Once the dryer door was shut she plopped onto the ground again and opened the Pepsi bottle. Enjolras couldn't help but think of how Joly would cringe to see her take a large swig of it as she pulled her knees up to her chest. He turned back to his book.

...

The next time he saw her was also in the laundry room. It was about a month later and he had another three full loads to do. She was sitting on the ground with a copy of Pride and Prejudice held open against her knees. Her clothes were in the washer assumedly, as there was nothing in any of the dryers. She glanced at him when he dropped his basket on the same folding table as the time before. He nodded at her and she inclined her head before looking down at the book again. He loaded three washers once again and as he was pouring the detergent into the third her machine beeped. She ignored it, staring at her book. Enjolras glanced at her. He started his own machine and then leaned against it. She hadn't moved.

"Excuse me." She held up her hand to him as if to say 'one moment' and still stared at her book. "Miss?" She moved her hand again, straightening her arm: _I said one moment_. "Miss." She dropped her arm suddenly, flinging her hand against the pages of her book and stared at him.

"What!"

"I think your laundry's done." She glared, picking up her bookmark - a small card of some kind - and placed it in her book. She closed it and flung it on the ground, pushing herself up. She continued to glare at him as she marched to her machine and yanked the door open. Only when she reached in and grabbed a handful of clothes and pulled them out to drop them in a basket did she break eye contact. Her basket was still on the folding table.

She sighed heavily, flinging the clothes back in before walking to fetch the basket. Enjolras smiled a little to himself, returning to his seat and his own book.

The two sat in silence, each absorbed in their own novel as the machines whirled. Enjolras' machine beeped halfway through the sentence he was reading. He would just finish it and then-

"SIR!" He jumped, dropping his book suddenly. The girl was there, smiling gently. "I think your laundry is ready to be switched over." He frowned at her and she merely continued to smile as he stood up.

...

He didn't ask her name until the third time he encountered her in the basement laundry room. She was there, without a book, sitting on the ground. She was watching the dryers this time. He prepared his three loads of laundry and started each machine. Instead of walking to his seat though, he sat down beside her on the ground. She turned and looked at him squarely. He looked at her.

"My name's Enjolras." He held out his hand and she glanced at it. Her eyes darted back up to his and she grasped his hand.

"Oceana Collins." He was aware that her hand was small in comparison to his, and she didn't squeeze his hand in a firm shake the way most people he associated with at the school did. When she let go he asked, "How are you?"

"Fine. Yourself?"

"Can't complain." She snorted at his response and turned back to watch her dryer.

"Excuse me?" She turned back, eyebrows raised.

"Do you find something wrong with my comment?" Enjolras didn't understand how she could be amused or repulsed in such a way to make such a noise at him.

"Not it specifically. But I know who you are: chief of the so-called 'liberators' of this tragic world we live in. Always preaching how we should either lift up the impoverished or drag down the tyrannical. But you yourself, oh no, no problems there."

"I only said I had nothing to complain of." He felt himself growing hot with irritation at the girl.

"Nothing at all? You, Monsieur Enjolras, have no complaints of your personal life?" She cocked her head at him in a mocking fashion. Enjolras couldn't understand what she was getting at.

"What are you trying to say? Or have me say?"

"Just trying to get you to level with me buddy!" She nudged his arm and chuckled.

"And how about yourself? Are you really just 'fine'?"

"Oh no, we're not going to play that game. I will not have my problems as the topic of your next rally." Enjolras stared at her in disbelief. She merely swung her gaze to the dryer again.

They sat in silence a while. Enjolras moved his clothes to the dryer. He sat down beside her again.

"Would you like to hear my complaints?" She looked at him with wide eyes. He was surprised to see them colored with concern.

"Of course."

And Enjolras complained. Not about himself, no. He complained as though he was giving a rally speech. He spoke of greedy politicians who wanted nothing more than to rob the people, he complained of teachers who only wished for good grades to come from their class, not learned students. He spoke of idealistic societies and better tomorrows. He spoke with passion and complained with a purpose.

When he stopped - not finished, for he was never finished - but when he stopped, Oceana placed her hand on his shoulder and watched him with caring eyes. He stared back at her, waiting for a response. She gave him none. She merely patted his shoulder and then stood. She gathered her clothes from the dryer and left.

...

When he had three loads worth of clothes again he walked to the basement laundry room. As he turned into the room he heard the door to the women's dorm open behind him. He turned to see Oceana holding her small basket. She smiled politely and followed him into the room. The two prepared their own laundry in silence. Once the four machines were running, Enjolras sat down on one of the chairs that were mounted to the wall. Oceana sat beside him.

"How are you today, monsieur?" Enjolras looked at her. Her face held a mild expression.

"Alright. And yourself?"

"Oh, nothing to complain about." He sighed and she giggled. "Would you like to hear my complaints?" He closed the book he had planned to read.

"Of course mademoiselle."

And she spoke. He couldn't call it complaining - it was much too passive for that. She spoke of how public education had fallen from grace across the globe and how children were robbed of youth by extenuating circumstances. She spoke of poverty and wealth, of suffering and false happiness. Of how people should feel empowered to do what they like. Enjolras had the impression that she actually had experienced what she talked about, that she had encountered the demons she illustrated. She spoke of people who fought the good fight, mentioned how she longed to join them. And then she spoke of self-righteous heroes who fancied themselves martyrs. And Enjolras immediately thought of Feuilly and his words at the last meeting L'Amis had held. How no one was impressed by a boy who had known no hardship and his rallying call to 'save' the world.

"People need something to believe in, not someone to fight for them." Enjolras watched Oceana and she stared up at him. Her eyes held a slight accusation, a demand.

"Thank you, for saying that." She then smiled, and her eyes softened.

The pair switched over their laundry before sitting down again. Oceana spoke first.

"I've noticed that there aren't any women in your supposed group of 'liberators'." Enjolras sighed. She wasn't the first to bring it up.

"That isn't for lack of welcoming on our part."

"Oh, isn't it?" Enjolras looked at her, bewildered. Her eyes were fierce. This was something she thought strongly of.

"Anyone is welcome to attend a rally-"

"But are they listened to? Do you hear what they say?" Enjolras thought of Feuilly again. And Jehan, who cried at the mere mention of a struggling woman. "What self-respecting woman makes a true attempt to infiltrate a league that claims to fight for her when they pay no attention to what she has to say for herself? A league that hosts rallies where they spit angry curses but offer no opening for suggestions?"

"I, we - what are you implying?!" Enjolras didn't know how to respond to her and her accusations.

"I'm implying that the very people you wish to save are being snubbed by you!" Enjolras stared at Oceana, her eyes ablaze, her mouth drawn in frown.

"Would you like to attend our next meeting?"Oceana guffawed, standing suddenly. She started to gather her clothes from the finished dryer. "I mean it Oceana. Would you like a say in what we do?" She glanced at him and cackled, throwing clothes in her basket.

"Oceana,"

"No, okay? I don't want anything to do with a group that is only interested in itself!" And she stormed out.

...

Over the next few months, Enjolras brooded over what Feuilly and Oceana had said to him. Both sounded so alike in his mind, but were so very different in person. Feuilly held a softer disposition. He desired to deliver the world, and that was why he worked with L'Amis. He was their voice of experience. Oceana also had experienced hardship, if her words were any indication, but she saw no value in a group that had, plainly, failed to hear the voices they claimed to fight for. Feuilly had only ever pointed that out directly once, but it seemed to cause a turn in the group. Combined with Oceana's words, Enjolras pushed himself to listen. The group noticed, but didn't mention it. Enjolras strived for any one present at the meetings to have an equal input in what they were discussing that evening. He had never noticed how little the others spoke until they were sharing their own thoughts on important matters, such as execution of rallies and how to drum up support.

...

Enjolras did his laundry in the same basement room with Oceana four times before she spoke to him again. Within that time L'Amis members that attended the university had actually invoked some action into the school. Flyers proclaiming equal treatment of students in class hung in the hallways, and students who had not even known that the group existed were pushing for the records of how alumni donations were spent to be more publically available, something L'Amis had been wanting to happen since their beginning for purpose of assuring students that the money meant for them was reaching them. (Of course, the records were held in the archives that students were not allowed into without written permission. Enjolras suspected that the money wasn't being used properly, and surprisingly enough, most of the students felt the same.) L'Amis was not spoken of as being a closed group of wishful 'liberators,' but a group that could enter history.

"So, how're things?" Enjolras looked at where Oceana sat on the ground from his seat in the chair that was mounted in the wall. She wasn't looking at him.

"Can't complain." She glanced at him and smiled. "Yourself?" She shrugged, turning to watch the dryers. "You know, Oceana. My offer for you to attend a meeting still stands." She looked at him, her eyes flashing a little.

"And what makes you think I've changed my opinion of your group?"

"I don't. I merely wish to allow you the opportunity for it to be changed." She raised her eyebrows at him and he did the same to her.

"Alright then. Where and when?"

...

Enjolras didn't know what to expect when he told L'Amis that they were expecting another person before they began that night's meeting. They were in the upstairs room at the Musain, a popular coffee shop among the university students. Combeferre seemed mildly surprised, and Jehan seemed exceptionally delighted that another person would be there.

"As long as it's not that snot-nosed brat from lunch today!" Bahorel lounged in his seat, propping his feet on the table beside Grantaire.

Enjolras heard feet on the stairs and turned in time to see Oceana stop herself once she reached the landing. She was dressed in much nicer clothes than Enjolras had ever seen in. He wondered if he'd ever even seen them in passing in her laundry basket. She looked around the room, and everyone gathered looked back at her. She turned to Enjolras. "Sorry I'm late. Couldn't catch a cab."

"That's alright. Please, sit." He motioned to an open chair before him, but she bypassed it for a seat closer to the back. The other Amis also took seats. Jehan sat beside Oceana and introduced himself. Grantaire glanced at her from over his hip flask with a gaze Enjolras recognized as lust. He sighed, hoping he hadn't made a rash decision in inviting Oceana to be there.

The topic of the meeting was of protest. How best to tell the school its insistence that alumni money spending was none of their business wasn't going to stand much longer? Most everyone spoke up during the meeting at some point. Only Grantaire, who rarely said anything useful, and Oceana were silent. Oceana scribbled in a note pad most of the time. Only as it neared an end did Enjolras call her out.

"Oceana, what do you think?" She looked up at him, and the room looked over at her.

"I think your plan to lock the higher-ups out of the school is brilliant. You just have to make sure to not get yourselves expelled." Enjolras nodded and planned to move on, but she continued. "Unless of course, your plan is to be expelled, fight for some bigger issues, make national news, and then bring it up as your daring start. That would point a lot more eyes at it, and similar situations at other schools, but would take so much longer." Jehan glanced between Oceana and Enjolras, an admiring grin on his face. "Thank you, but for now let's stick to not being expelled." Oceana smiled.

...

So it went. The meetings leading up the lock-out, Oceana would arrive last and they would begin. She wouldn't say much, merely scribble in her notebook. Afterwards she would often attempt to rush off, but someone would hold her back for a conversation. First it was Jehan, then it was Courfeyrac, then it was Bahorel, then it was Combeferre. Most everyone wanted to speak with the girl Enjolras had invited. He didn't know if it was to see if he had invited her to woo her or an attempt to woo her themselves at first. But over time he saw that they were curious as to what she thought, what she felt was the proper course of action. They wanted to hear her voice.

...

The day of the lock-out, everything was going well. Feuilly was down the block with his car in case something terrible should happen and they needed to get out. Marius was in the PA box with Combeferre, ready to announce what was going on when confusion ensued. Oceana was stationed with Bahorel in the office wing, just inside the locked glass doors. When the administration began to arrive, just before the teachers who came just before the students, they noticed that something was wrong. The plaque that held the graduating class dates and class size had been removed from the front entrance way. Large red and black banners hung where the school colors used to. When they all finally reached the locked office wing, they realized what it was. Oceana and Bahorel stood there, arms crossed, feet spread apart. They had plastered a sign to the door that read, "All students are inducted into the alumni association. All alumni expect their money to fuel students and their education. All students never expect to see any of that money."

Teachers began to arrive and were unable to enter their classrooms or their offices. Students had nowhere to go. Joly and Bossuet had deactivated all academic and office door swipe cards the evening before. Marius' voice came over the PA, explaining why no one could get in, what they had done and why. Bahorel grinned as the President of the school grew angry and began to shout at him and Oceana through the door. They couldn't hear him.

...

Enjolras had expected someone to call the police at some point. Maybe they would be arrested and held overnight. What he never expected was for them to arrive with artillery. He and Courfeyrac were inside the biology hallway. Police in riot gear were running up the hallway at them, screaming at them to get on their knees on the ground. They were yanked and dragged out of the building and thrown into the back of a van. Enjolras watched in horror as students fought against the police, shouting and screaming. This was not at all what they had intended. What had happened?

Grantaire and Jehan were soon thrown in the van with them, shortly followed by Joly and Bossuet. Enjolras knew Combeferre and Marius were padlocked in the PA room. It would be a while before someone broke down the door to get to them. But what of Bahorel and Oceana?

No one spoke, even as the van began to move.

...

It wasn't until much later when Enjolras used his one phone call to reach Feuilly did he hear what happened to those who weren't in jail.

"Yeah, Combeferre and Marius just left the PA room when they heard that riot police had shown up. They reached me and we parked on the other side of the soccer field, planning to catch you all when you ran out the humanities wing." But of course they hadn't. The three of them sat there for ten minutes before Bahorel called Combeferre.

"He was shouting for us to come and get him and Oceana at the dorms, swearing a lot more than usual. Of course, I can't get anywhere near the dorms without a visitors pass, and they weren't issuing those." Enjolras snorted, slightly amused by Feuilly's attempt at humor. "Combeferre tried to tell him to just come to us, but he said he couldn't."

"Yeah, it was bad."

"I know Enjolras, I know." The tone in Feuilly's voice gave Enjolras pause. He thought for a moment.

"Why didn't Bahorel just fight his way through with Oceana?" It was odd that he had called to insist that they come get him. Even with Oceana, he wasn't the sort to not try his hand in a fight.

"Enjolras, I don't know how soon they got you, but police were everywhere. Combeferre and Marius got out just before things went too far south. Students were everywhere."

"Feuilly, I know, the police showed up armed and it scared-"

"Enjolras, they didn't. Some the students started a bonfire and a teacher panicked. Riot police gassed office wing to break down the door. Bahorel and Oceana and to run through throngs of students on the verge of a real riot while avoiding all the police."

"Then why didn't they run towards the predestinated-"

"Enjolras, please, you have to understand that police where everywhere and-"

"Feuilly, what happened?" Enjolras realized through Feuilly's tone that something must've happened. Bahorel and Oceana must have been caught between a rock and hard place while at the dorms, that's why they couldn't just run over. The students and police were probably too tightly knit to properly fight through.

"Enjolras, they shot Oceana. They police fired shots and hit Oceana." Enjolras felt his stomach drop. Before Feuilly could continue a police officer was pulling the phone from his hand. He barely heard Feuilly shouting that they were coming to bail them all out tomorrow.

...

Combeferre was the one to drive the van over and bail them all out. He was quiet as they all piled into it. Only when he missed the turn for Feuilly's apartment did Jehan speak.

"Combeferre, what exactly happened to Oceana?" Combeferre sighed.

Enjolras had told them all what Feuilly had got in over the phone, but they knew nothing else. They only had each other's similar accounts of being found by riot police and being dragged through a mob.

"Things got out of hand when some students started a bonfire outside the dining hall. It put everyone on edge and a teacher called the police in a panic. They played the call on the news and she made it sound as if students were setting fire to the building. Police and fire trucks showed up and started bullying the students. By the time they actually got to the office wing, the president had enough of 'rowdy trouble-makers'. The police gassed the office wing and Bahorel and Oceana had to make a break for it."

"Why didn't Bahorel just fight a cop?" Grantaire was mulling over his empty, but returned, hip flask.

"You run at men who are throwing gas canisters at you next time, okay?" Courfeyrac snapped at him, unusually ill-tempered.

"Anyway, they were running with police behind them. When they got outside the students were actually rioting. As Bahorel put it, it was all he could do not to make a Molotov cocktail." They were quiet a moment, imaging a raging Bahorel delving into the riot. "The two of them were running towards the humanities building when someone fired shots. Everyone was in a panic and police started firing into the crowd. Bahorel was trying to get Oceana to move faster when he heard her scream. She took a bullet to the thigh. He had to carry her all the way to the dorms, since police were already setting up on the humanities building steps where the first shots had rang out and that was the easiest route that wasn't crowded with students. By the time Feuilly managed to get his car in an unlocked gate, Bahorel had tied a tourniquet around her thigh, both of them were covered in her blood, and she had passed out. Feuilly nearly got us all killed driving to the hospital." Enjolras saw the sign for the emergency ward on the side of the road and Combeferre turned into the parking lot.

"Is she alright?" Jehan was crying and Joly pressed his lips together, not allowing his book knowledge of blood loss and bullet wounds to get out.

"I'm not sure. Bahorel stayed at the hospital with her while we stayed at Feuilly's apartment. He called as I left this morning and Feuilly and Marius drove out here."

...

Marius, Feuilly, and Bahorel were in the ICU waiting room when they all arrived. Marius was speaking and laughing with a pretty nurse at the desk.

"Her name's Cosette. She's a medical student." Grantaire snorted as he plopped down beside Bahorel who was still wearing blood-stained clothes.

"Any news?"

"Not a lot. They gave her a blood transfusion at some point last night. I don't understand what half these nurses and doctors are saying." Bahorel pressed his hands against his face. He appeared exhausted.

"Did you sleep last night?"

"No. Man, I feel like this is my fault." Bahorel dropped his hands and stared at the ceiling. "If I hadn't let her get behind me-"

"No, it was freak thing." Jehan sat on his other side and linked arms with him. "No one thought the police would be so violent."

...

"Marius, will you shut up about the fucking nurse!" Marius turned suddenly to Bahorel who was glaring at him and promptly closed his mouth. They were all in the waiting room. The president of the school had called Enjolras and demanded his and everyone else attend a hearing at the school on Monday. Until then, they were all on indefinite suspension.

A doctor had come out to speak with them. The bullet had been lodged in her muscle and easily removed during surgery. She'd have to stay for a few days to make sure the wound wasn't infected and to stitch it close after it finished draining. She'd need physical therapy for a few months and would probably need a cane for a while, but would otherwise be fine.

"Can we see her?"The doctor looked at Jehan and replied,

"We generally only allow family in, but seeing as we cannot get in contact with them, a few of you may see her at a time. She'd probably enjoy it." And so Jehan, Bahorel, and Enjolras went in to see her first. Jehan because he'd been upset until he did, Bahorel because he had stood up and began to follow the doctor before anyone could cut in, and Enjolras because he was their chief.

She was on the end of a room made for two people, close to the large window. She was picking at her fingernails when they came in.

"Oceana," She looked up, wide-eyed and grinned upon seeing them.

"Hey guys." Jehan walked beside her and took her hand. Bahorel perched on the end of her bed and crossed his arms over his chest. The doctor told Enjolras he'd be back in a bit and left.

"We've all been so worried about you." Jehan stroked her hand and looked at her fingernails. She chuckled and ruffled his hair with her free hand.

"I'm sure." She looked up at Enjolras. "Did it work?"

"We have to attend a hearing on Monday." She grinned again.

"That's a good sign. And they can't expel us for the riot since we technically didn't start it." Enjolras nodded. Oceana turned to look at Bahorel, who was staring at her. "How're you?"

"Oh, you know, just covered in blood." He gestured to his shirt and the dried blood stains. She pressed her lips together.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stopped to see what was going on. I should've kept right behind you like you-"

"No, no." Bahorel got off the bed and moved closer to her. "This wasn't your fault. Whatever dumbass decided to burn his textbooks is who started this." Enjolras and Jehan glanced at each other. It wasn't common for Bahorel to tell someone they weren't at fault.

"But you told me to not-"

"Oceana. It's not your fault you got shot."

"But you sounded so worried and I wasn't at all helpful and-" Bahorel put his hands on her cheeks and tilted her head to look at him.

"Listen to me. You're safe, and that's what counts." Jehan gave Enjolras an incredulous look. What was this display of affection?

Oceana pulled her hand out of Jehan's and placed it over Bahorel's. Her eyes were wet with tears. Bahorel leaned down and kissed her forehead, pausing there a moment. When he pulled back he smirked.

"But I would like a new shirt please." Oceana laughed, as did Jehan and Enjolras.

...

They were not expelled for their actions. Several other students were for vandalism, and the one who had first fired the shots was arrested. Video footage showed a strange car entering the dorm parking lot through an unlocked gate and picking up two students, but nobody investigated further after it was proven that Bahorel and Oceana were the students involved. As a result of the events, the board of trustees insisted on the records being publicly available, and did a thorough investigation of alumni donation spending. Several administrators in charge of distributing the money were pocketing a few hundred dollars at a time from large contributions, and were reprimanded. One later resigned. Oceana went in for physical therapy once a week for three months. Since she didn't have a car, so Bahorel drove her. She limped, but refused a cane. Joly said it was probably a psychological limp, since it didn't pain her to walk. L'Amis were heralded as dare devils through many of the students. Even Grantaire had a few girls wishing to hear of his heroic partake in the incident. Marius and the medical student from the hospital got together and soon Cosette was also in attendance of meetings. The waitress, Musichetta, at the Musain slowly worked her way in as well. Apparently she had eavesdropped on them for some time. Bahorel and Oceana hung around each other a lot more often. At meetings they would sit beside each other and Oceana would lean into his side and Bahorel would keep his hand on her waist.

Enjolras continued to do his laundry in the basement every three loads. Oceana would be there as well. They would complain to each other about the social classes, distribution of funds among the masses, the welfare state, and a woman's proper place. Sometimes one would become irrationally angry with the other over something and they wouldn't speak to each other outside of meetings. It was usually Oceana who got angry at him.


End file.
